


A Little Office on Helium Boulevard, Just Past Crypt Street

by bramblePatch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Noir, F/F, Film Noir, Gen, Gun Violence, Humanstuck, Mystery, Organized Crime, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bramblePatch/pseuds/bramblePatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Crocker is as hardboiled as the next private eye, but when the main squeeze of a crime boss's rebellious little sister goes missing, she's going to need a little backup from Detective Terezi Pyrope of the New Midnight PD if she's going to crack the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ribbontype](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbontype/gifts).



_Jane Crocker_  
 _3:22 PM_  
Now, by rights, this thing ought to start with me, a dimly lit office and a slowly turning ceiling fan. I'd be sitting with my feet up on the desk, fedora pulled low over my eyes, as a dame who can only be described with the most flowery yet practical of poetry saunters into the office with a sob story on her tongue and a discrete little firearm in her handbang.

We all know how these things go, ok? Hardboiled gumshoe. Femme fatale. Chiaroscuro lighting and a city that knows how to keep its secrets.

Unfortunately, as you may be aware, my life rarely deigns to play by the rules. Not truly. Which is why perhaps when this all started, you could say that I had the makings of the proper setup, except that I wasn't brooding so much as trying to shoot a rubber band at the slowly turning blades of the ceiling fan. Maybe there's some dicks that can turn abject boredom into a good solid glower, but I've gotta come clean and admit that Jane Crocker, Private Eye, is not one of them. Sad, but there it is.

So I'd nearly managed to nail the fan with a carefully aimed rubber band when the lady walked in, and I scrambled to look like I hadn't been playing target practice with office supplies a second before. 

Now, I say "the lady" like I didn't have a perfectly good idea who she was, and that's a little disingenuous of me. You don't live in New Midnight for half your life without being familiar with Miss Calliope English. You look at her and it's clear she's a girl trying hard to look unremarkable - modest green blazer, thin fair hair cut just a bit too long to be called boyish, and she walks like she's trying not to take up space. But it's painfully hard not to remark on Miss English - and not just because she's got eyes like green traffic lights and a delicate little face like someone forgot to put flesh between skull and skin.

I knew her a bit, when we were schoolgirls. I didn't talk to her much as we got older. It gets difficult to pretend you don't both know a girl's brother is behind most of the organized crime in the city. Still, Callie herself is a sweet kid, and considering who her big brother is she's an impressively high-minded sort. She's been openly working against him for several years now, and I'd like to say she does as much good around here as her brother does harm, but he's got an awfully extensive head start.

She's also about the last person I'd expect to turn up in my humble little office on a weekday afternoon. I smiled as I got up to greet her, and it might even have been convincing. It's always a little hard to tell just what's going on in her strange little head. "Callie," I said, "what's the news, dear?"

I was totally unprepared for her answer.

"Roxy's missing, Jane. The police say she hasn't been gone long enough to look for her, but I just _know_ something's happened to her."

I've got to say, there aren't a lot of cases where it's hard for me to maintain a professional demeanor. That, though - that made me pause. Roxy Lalonde's my best friend, going way back; she's one of New Midnight's most notorious socialites, and she and Callie are among the city's worst-kept secrets. 

She can be a bit of a flake, but I had to agree with Callie - Roxy wouldn't just up and disappear without letting anyone know where she is. Especially not when broad swathes of New Midnight knew she was dating a renegade mob princess. 

"I can pay your fee, you know I can. You have to find her. Please?"

I swallowed, hard. I did have to find her. This wasn't any time to let silly emotions get the better of me. "I'll bring her home. Don't worry, Callie."

 

Problem was, I didn't really know where to start. So I did what any good sleuth would do, and after grilling Callie a bit on Roxy's last known location and activities, went down to harass my contact at the precinct.

Callie had said that she'd already talked to the police. And while at first glance there was no evidence of foul play, close ties to the Felt practically count as that sort of evidence. I didn't like the lack of official response, any more than Callie did. Luckily, there's someone down at the station who I can generally lean on for answers.

 

 _Terezi Pyrope_  
 _4:11 PM_  
She just said she can lean on me for answers, didn't she? Goddamn it.

For the record, I'd already smelled a rat by the time one Jane Crocker showed up and started throwing her weight around. There's a definite _way_ the higher-ups don't investigate some things, and it stinks of corruption. If she hadn't shown up when she had, I'd probably have sought her out by the end of the day anyway.

Didn't mean I wanted her to waltz in like she was doing the department a favor by darkening our door, perch herself on the edge of my undersized desk, and ask, "So, Pyrope, heard anything about the Lalonde disappearance yet?"

I growled and gave her a little shove. She squeaked, but caught herself easily enough as she slid off the edge of the desk.

"You mean the one I heard my damn boss brush off this afternoon like Lord E himself was breathing down his neck?" I demanded. "Yeah, I heard."

Hey, I didn't like that she was there, but she's a decent investigator. And I've got a soft spot for a damsel in distress, I guess. If my superiors weren't going to lift a finger to help Calliope English find her girl, I'd take whatever backup I could get, see?

"Want to help me track her down?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I need to finish up a few things here," I said. "Some of us actually work for the city and have responsibilities, Crocker."

"Is that a no?" She was pouting. I could hear it. Grown woman, all ready to go off chasing mobsters, and she was _pouting_ at the blind detective. Pouting.

"You're still at that awful little hole in the wall on Helium Boulevard, just past Crypts, right?" I asked. "I'll look into a couple of things and drop by tonight - eight or so. Try to have something to bring to the table."

There was a long pause. She must have been more desperate for a lead than I thought. I sighed. "We're assuming Lord English is involved in some way? I'm sure there's _some_ associate of his you can arrange to talk to. One that can't avoid you. One, for instance, who might be found in the Trois Heurs du Matin State Penitentiary."

 

 _Jane Crocker_  
 _5:15 PM_  
That hadn't been quite what I was looking for, but beggars can't be choosers and neither, apparently, can private investigators. She had a point. It just wasn't the one I'd been looking for. Grease the right palms, and I was sure I could get in to see the woman in no time at all.

I'd have to be crazy, of course, but any claims I've ever made of good judgment really ought to be taken with a generous measure of salt, which is why as shortly as humanly possible I managed to find my way to a grubby visiting room at Trois Heurs, sitting across the table from a heavily shackled Damara "the Demoness" Megido.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I was nervous. I'm as hardboiled as the next private eye, but generally all that requires is a willingness to commit to an uncomfortable stakeout for a few days. You can't believe everything the magazines feed you - folks of my profession do not, as a rule, regularly end up interviewing notorious hitwomen, even when they've been incarcerated for several years.

She was more intimidating in person than the grainy newspaper photos made her look. She was also, unfortunately, my only lead - or at least the only lead Pyrope was willing to share.

And she was also staring me down while I tried to figure out how to say so do you know if your former boss has any designs on my friend's life or liberty, in a way that wouldn't just get me laughed out of the room.

Finally I put on my best glower and leaned back in my chair. "Heard anything from a Felt-ward direction lately?"

She lifted her hands briefly and then let them fall, the chains clanking meaningfully against the tabletop.

"English's sister's lady is missing, Ms. Megido," I added, after a moment of the least comfortable silence I'd experienced in a long time. "You testified against him once, for all the good it did. Anything bone you can throw me might help us find Miss Lalonde alive."

The Demoness laughed, a dry, harsh sound. When she spoke, her accent was almost too thick to wade through. "No one in that place speaks to me anymore," she said. "Nor does anything else to me, at least."

I frowned. "Nothing? No one has to know we talked."

"If I knew where you'd find the little harlot, I'd tell you," she said, with a shrug. I'd like to say she sounded regretful, but mostly she just sounded bored. "You'll have to ask someone who's actually run with the Felt recently. Last I heard, that'd be Snowman."


	2. Chapter 2

_Terezi Pyrope_  
 _5:38 PM_  
Now, to be perfectly honest, I didn't expect Crocker to get much useful intel out of the Demoness. But I couldn't have her tagging along while I followed up on what I thought would be a relevant lead. Not if I didn't want Miss Goodie Gumshoes to spook my contact.

I'm not exactly most morally grey detective in the city, myself, but the girl I was going to see knows me.

And I know her, which is why I allowed for plenty of time to stand in the dockyard, artfully unimpressed, as Vriska cackled about how the mighty have fallen and other such complete and total horseshit. Sometimes you've just got to let her get it out of her system.

"Is there any word on the street of a plot like this or not?" I asked after I thought a sufficient time had passed.

"No, _wait_ , Terezi, this is too precious," she laughed. " _You_ , coming to _me_ for help!"

"I ask you for help all the damn time, Vriska," I pointed out. "Look, once we find this girl you can obnoxiously laugh at me all you want."

"You know what I think?" she asked. "I think if you were really so dedicated to finding her, _I_ wouldn't be the one you're talking to. I mean, not just now - someday I'm gonna be more than a small-time brawler, sure. I guess it _might_ be flattering that you think someone might be throwing intel my way."

Self-effacing Vriska is about the only thing more obnoxious than gloating Vriska, and here I was in lenses too dark to make an eyeroll an effective gesture.

"C'mon, sis, I know you hear all sorts of shit," I said. "I mean, you're awful at doing anything useful with it. That is why I'm giving you the chance to actually help for once."

She sighed. "I wish I could help more, Terezi, I really do," she said. "Try mom. I hear she's been running with English's cronies again."

I resisted the urge to groan. It wasn't the answer I'd wanted, but it was _something_ to take to Crocker.

 

 _Jane Crocker_  
 _7:57 PM_  
It was edging onto eight o'clock and I was wondering whether Pyrope was going to show up - or if she'd gotten lost on the way - when a cane rapped against the glass of my office door. Which was unlocked, by the way. If anyone's keeping track. I suppose she gets points for style.

When I opened the door, she was leaning casually against the wall just to one side of my office. "Any luck?" she asked.

"Have _you_ ever tried getting answers out of that woman?" I groused. "She's terrifying. And terribly uncooperative. Best I could get was a vague suggestion I ought to talk to Ms. Quinn."

Much to my surprise, that was answered with an almost troubling wide grin from Terezi. "Well it's a good thing she's expecting us, isn't it?"

"What?" I demanded.

"Ms. Branwen 'Snowman' Quinn, right?" she asked, with a shrug. "I called her up half an hour ago. We really shouldn't keep her waiting, she'll get cranky." With that, she turned on her heel and headed out toward the stairs, and beyond that, the street, white cane tapping the dingy tile before her.

"How the hell are you on visiting terms with Snowman?" I asked, hurrying after her.

She laughed - a bright sound that seemed almost entirely out of place as we emerged on the dark street. "You think you're the only one with skeletons in your closet, Crocker?" she asked. 

"Have you _seen_ the city we live in-?" I began. She cackled, cutting me off.

"Not lately!"

"Very funny, Pyrope. Of course I don't think I'm the only one with questionable antecedents," I said. "But that hardly means I expect everyone to be on comfortable social terms with one of the most dangerous women in the city! Should I be more careful about going into dark alleys with you?"

"Probably! But no, relax, I'm the _good_ one."

"The good one." Right. Like that was encouraging.

"The apple fell a good long way from the tree, Jane! And it wasn't even the same tree, it's not like she's my _real_ mother."

I stopped in my tracks. It took her a moment to notice; when she did, she paused, turning on her heel to... well, I suppose "look" isn't really the right word. Listen after me, perhaps.

"Branwen Quinn is your _mother_."

"My foster-mother!" she agreed. "Come on, Jane, don't get cold feet now. Do you want to find the Lalonde broad or not?"

I gritted my teeth, and closed the distance between us in a few steps; she easily fell into step beside me. "If you are not on the level here, Pyrope, you are so dead," I growled.

"Don't be like that!" She sounded far too cheerful, I thought. "I promise. This is on the up and up. A girl can't help who takes her in when she's a poor defenseless waif, can she?"

"It's not like you're particularly... open about it."

"And do you go around telling everyone you kissed L.E.'s cousin in high school?" she asked.

"How the hell do you know about me and Jake?" I demanded.

"Well, I didn't know for _sure_ until just now," she admitted. "But we _just_ established I was raised by Snowman, Jane, try to keep up. Sometimes I get gossip from those circles."

I chose not to give her any more ammunition after that. Let's stick with that story. It's dignified, like.

 _Terezi Pyrope_  
 _8:08 PM_  
It had been a while since I'd payed a social call on Snowman, and she's not really the sort you want to only approach when you need something. I'd have to be more careful about that in the future - I could hardly do anything about it now. Especially when I had Jane Crocker in tow, acting like she was about ready to either stab someone with a teaspoon or bolt.

I don't know if she thought I couldn't read people because I can't see them, or if she was just too nervous to care what anyone thought. That was an uncomfortable elevator ride to Snowman's place, though, I'll tell you.

Snowman met us at the door. She smelled of cigarettes, expensive ones. "Terezi, so good to see you," she said.

"It's good of you to see us on such short notice," I replied. She hugged me. I let her. She was as angular as ever - not like I have much room to talk, but I can't help it if I worry a bit.

"And this must be Ms. Crocker. Come in girls, can I get you anything?"

Snowman's got that way about her, you know? You could be on a matter of life and death, or you could be wishing her happy Easter, and she'd be exactly the same. Regal. It's an art, one I've never perfected.

"No thank you, ma'am," Jane replied as she stepped inside. "Well, other than information. It's kind of you to offer, but we're on a tight schedule."

Well. Seemed like Crocker could manage dignity, too. Color me surprised.

"I see," Snowman said. A light touch on my shoulder guided me toward one of what I can only assume are tastefully upholstered loveseats in her parlor. "What can I help you with, then?"

Jane laid out the case - the disappearance, the Felt connection, the disinterest of everyone on the police force but me. Snowman listened quietly, interjecting small questions occasionally. When Jane was done, she sighed.

"I hate to put you girls out, but I'm afraid I don't know anything," she admitted. "Caliborn's been decidedly disinterested in me and my affairs lately; if he's anything to do with this, he hasn't told _me_. His current lady might be able to tell you something."

"I'm sure you know who that is?" Jane asked, a little desperately.

"Not for certain," she replied. "I have my suspicions. The Peixes girls might be involved. Your sister might be able to give you real answers, Terezi."

I scowled. "Vriska isn't my _sister_ ," I said. "And I already talked to her."

Snowman chuckled. "If I'm enough of a mother to come to in an emergency, she's enough of a sister to ask for help," she chided. "Tell her I said to play nice."

She paused, and when she spoke up again, there was a note of urgency in her voice. "You girls out to get out of here, though," she said. "There oughtn't be anyone upstairs. I just heard footsteps."

"Felt?" Jane demanded.

"Could be. Could be Midnight Crew, could be half a dozen others," Snowman replied as we hurried to the door. I gave her another quick, one-armed hug as I slipped out. I really do regret not seeing more of her - in a manner of speaking. "Good luck. Let me know how it comes out, if you manage not to get shot too much."

"What?" Jane yelped, but the door was already closed behind us, and I towed her along down the hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

_Jane Crocker_  
 _9:41 PM_  
If you're ever seized by a mad desire to be dragged all over town after dark by a crazy, blind detective, take it from me - you ought to sit down and wait for it to pass.

I didn't get any answers out of her for at least five blocks, in which we turned twice and crossed the street once. That girl must know the city map like the back of her hand; I could barely keep track of where we were and I was watching the street signs as we passed. Finally she seemed satisfied that we weren't being followed, and we slowed up enough to talk.

"So not only is your mom Branwen fucking Quinn, but you've got a sister - sorry, _foster_ sister - somewhere out here who can tell us what's going on with the Peixes sisters," I demanded.

She shrugged. "Only one of them, and I'm not sure how much we can rely on that. And I very much doubt it's _Meenah_ shacked up with Lord English."

The fact that she was on nickname terms with Cosmina Peixes was not _precisely_ reassuring.

The last time New Midnight City was exactly what you could call _safe_ or _upstanding_ or _free of widespread organized crime_ had been fifteen years ago, and yeah. The mayorship of Feferi Peixes had been something of a golden age of the city. Right up to the point where she was assassinated.

It was obviously a hit. There's never been enough evidence to conclusively tie it to any one faction, but most people are only too happy to blame the Felt. Or the Midnight Crew. Or both. Usually at least one of them, though.

Mayor Peixes's two daughters, though, haven't exactly followed in her footsteps. Constance is a dangerous broad to cross, and her little sister Cosmina is a rabble rouser. Neither one is a woman I particularly want having Roxy in her sights, really.

Terezi led me down a side of town I wouldn't go except on a job, and even then generally I'd save it for daylight. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though, and I suppose it's not like night and day mean an awful lot to Terezi. She doesn't need the light, and I was coming to see that little things like "risk of horrible armed robbery and murder" don't bother her overmuch. 

If I'd thought she was obnoxious about knocking on my office door, I had to feel a definite pang of schadenfreude for whoever it was we were going to see now, because Terezi skipped the cane entirely and went straight to kicking the door. Not kicking the door down, just kicking the door. It didn't take long before the door opened, just a crack, and a scruffy young woman with an eyepatch and glasses peered out. "Yeah?"

"We've just come from Snowman's place," Terezi informed her, in a tone that was just a little too civil to be a growl. The girl tried to shut the door; Terezi jammed a foot in first.

I crossed my arms, wishing I was taller. This was a maneuver that would work just lovely if I could tower over Terezi so we could both loom at the small space simultaneously, but unfortunately we're about the same height. Ah, well. Sometimes effort is what counts.

" _She_ seemed to think you'd been holding out on Terezi," I said archly.

"What? No," the girl objected. 

"Vriska, you and I both know it's been years since you were in a ten-block radius of reliable," Terezi said. "So get your ass out here or let us in, I don't really care. But you're going to talk to us."

"Snowman was also of the opinion that it'd behoove you to cooperate," I added. Maybe these two were used to the woman, but she'd certainly left an impression on me. And really, leaning on something for an extended period tends to leave more of an impression, not less. I wasn't quite ready to buy that this Vriska was immune to Snowman's influence.

I'm not sure whether it was the additional name drop that got to her or if she was humoring Terezi or what, but there was a moment of tense silence and then the door opened, briefly, and the woman stepped out.

She looked a bit older than me - Terezi's age, or thereabouts - and the impression I'd gotten of her through the crack in the door had barely scratched the surface. And let me tell you, that was a surface that had been scratched. She wore her hair combed forward over her face but that didn't do much to hide the scarring, and if she held one shoulder higher than the other, it was probably because of the weight of the prosthetic arm.

"Vriska Serket," she introduced herself. It was the mechanical hand she offered for a shake. I shook it, because the alternative was standing in the street staring at it.

"Jane Crocker," I replied. I wasn't sorry to let go of her hand. It was rough and cold, and the joints pinched my fingers.

"Vriska's got an eye on what goes on in the docks district," Terezi explained. "Hasn't quite gotten the 'Marquise of Map Street' moniker to stick -"

"Oh, what do you know?" Vriska groused.

"- _but_ totally pretentious nicknames aside, she's generally at least marginally competent," Terezi finished.

"And she can take us to -?" I prompted.

"To see Meenah, yeah."

"What?" Vriska demanded.

"We just want to talk to her," I assured her. "But it's got to be tonight. As soon as possible."

"What's in it for me?" the girl asked.

Terezi snorted. "Besides not getting our unending animosity?"

"Oh, come on Terezi, I've got that already."

"The report I've got all written up on smuggling through the south docks in the last two months ends up on the police chief’s desk, not leaked to the Midnight Crew," Terezi said.

Vriska's remaining eye widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. "You wouldn't," she hissed.

"She's already acting against orders to investigate this with me at all," I pointed out mildly.

Vriska looked from Terezi to me and then back to Terezi, and sighed, loudly and theatrically. "Fine. _Fine_. I've got a good idea where you can find Meenah. But I'm not going in with you. You can handle her on your own."

"See, I _knew_ we could come to an agreement," I said with a sunny smile. She made a rude gesture in reply.


	4. Chapter 4

_Terezi Pyrope_  
 _11:13 PM_  
Vriska took us down a bit past downtown, to the part of town that desperately wants to be downtown but mostly manages seedy, and left us outside the Alpha Scratch Club with an entirely unconvincing wish for good luck. Unconvincing to me, at least. Vriska's a superstitious little shit, if she wants good luck for you she doesn't _wish_ it.

I let Jane lead the way into the club; I don't know how it is for sighted people - I never visited until after the accident, but I've heard the lighting and visibility aren't great - but I've always found the Alpha Scratch to be disorienting. A little jarring. The music is louder than it is good, and it reeks of cheap alcohol, cheaper tobacco, and cheaper yet perfume. Desperation and frugal hedonism.

Maybe I'm just sensitive to what is pretty much a palpable aura of trying too hard, though, because it certainly seems to be a popular watering hole for the crowd that likes to think itself young, edgy, and immortal.

The kind of crowd that Meenah Peixes likes to surround herself with, in other words.

It didn't take long to find her - even in the crowd, even with the person doing the looking not being a personal acquaintance of Meenah's. She's distinctive, Meenah is.

That night, or at least at the moment of that night when we came after her, she was sitting at the bar. As the two of us slid onto seats on either side of her, she chuckled, and tapped a fingernail on the side of her drink. The glass made a noise like an incredibly lackluster bell.

"Hey, ladies, what's up?" she asked. From anyone else it would have sounded flighty, but Meenah's got too many sharp edges for that.

"Well, that's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Jane replied. "What, _exactly_ is up in this city?"

"Specifically, what've you heard from Lord English lately?" I added.

Meenah laughed, again, but it sounded a little forced. "You've got the wrong Peixes sister, lady."

I frowned. "And if we found the _right_ Peixes sister? Would she be working tonight?"

"Could be," Meenah replied. "Could be. I ain't exactly been keeping Condy on a leash, you know? But..."

There was a moment of silence, and then Jane prompted, "...but?"

"I don't think this is the place for this conversation," Meenah said, abruptly.

"This is _exactly_ the place for this, Miss Peixes," Jane said. "It's loud, it's crowded, I guarantee you if we tried to order a drink right now the bartender wouldn't get it right with all the noise. No one's going to overhear us. We're going to have this conversation, and if we go somewhere else for it, there's a whole club full of people who'll have seen you go off in private with a pair of sleuths."

Meenah sighed. "What, exactly, are you looking to find out?"

"A friend of Miss Crocker, here, went missing not too long ago," I explained. "A friend who also happens to be that overly-enthusiastic ladyfriend of Calliope English. We think Calliope's brother _might_ have something to do with it, but we're having a hell of a time tracking down anyone he's even given the time of day to."

"I just bet," Meenah spat. "Not while he's got Condy on his arm, huh? Though might be I heard she won't be out and about for a few nights. Possibly she's got a houseguest, right? Maybe a houseguest who'd rather not be there."

Jane sat bolt upright so quickly that it made her barstool rattle against the floor. I'm not going to pretend I didn't perk up, myself. Finally, a break. If this was accurate, Roxy Lalonde was not only alive, and in the custody of a specific person, but expected to be that way for at least a few days.

I could have hugged Meenah, if I didn't think that'd get me punched in the teeth.

"I don't suppose you know where she's holed up?" Jane asked.

"Of _course_ I know where my own sister's staying," Meenah said. 

"And?" I prompted.

"I can take you there," she said. "Two conditions. One, I come in with you."

"We'll need someone who knows the place, anyway," Jane conceded.

"Two, once you get Lalonde out of there, she and Calliope get the hell out of town."

That one took us a little more by surprise. "Why?" Jane asked after a moment. "I mean, we can't commit to that without talking to at least one of them, but _why_?"

Meenah laughed. "You honestly think New Midnight City is any kind of place for a sickly-sweet little idealist reformer and her drunken girlfriend?" she asked. "Look, Crocker, Pyrope, I got plans for this city. It's gonna be a great city again, like it was in my mama's day. But I don't need the kingpin's do-gooder little sister running around painting a target on the forehead of anyone stupid enough to stop and care about her, ya know?"

"So you just want to shunt her out of the way," I said coldly. "There's only room for one reformer in this city and you've decided it's you."

"Yeah, pretty much," Meenah agreed. She didn't sound particularly ashamed of it, either. "Look, I don't wish the little idiot any harm, alright? But she's underfoot and I want her out of the way."

I heard Jane hop down from her stool - I figured she was gonna walk out. I was just about to. To my surprise, though, she said in a remarkably level voice, "If that's the way you want to do this, I'll need to give Miss English a call and see what she thinks."

"Jane!" I hissed.

"You got another informant on tap with this kind of intel on where Roxy is, Pyrope?" she demanded. "We've got to at least put the option in front of Calliope. Is there a pay phone around here?"

"There's one out on the corner, I'm pretty sure," Meenah offered, and before I could stop her, Jane had slipped away into the crowd.

 

 _Jane Crocker_  
 _11:20 PM_   
Sure enough, the phone was there - one of those good ones, with the sturdy booth that actually closes properly. I stepped in, dug out a slip of paper with Calliope's number from my pocket, and dropped a few coins into the machine.

The phone only rang a couple of times before she answered. She sounded... tired. Not sleepy, not like I'd just roused her, but tired. "Calliope English speaking."

"Hi, Callie, this is Jane," I replied, and heard a little gasp from the other end.

"Jane, dear, please tell me you have good news," she said.

I sighed through my teeth. "Better than I might. I've got a lead. A good one, I think."

"That's wonderful!" There was a note of hope in her voice, and it was enormously good to hear. I just hoped the rest of the news didn't kill it.

"If I'm going to follow up on it, it comes with a price, though," I told her. "Cosmina Peixes thinks she can take me to Roxy, but if she does, she wants you and Ro-Lal outta her hair in a big way."

"I'm not certain I understand what you're getting at," Calliope confessed after a moment.

"If we accept her help, and you two don't leave town as soon as humanly possible, you're going to see trouble from more than just a fraternal direction, honey," I said. "We both are, probably. And to be perfectly frank, I don't much want to tussle with that woman."

There was another long pause. I started to wonder if I'd lost the connection. Then she spoke up, and she sounded so very much like the uncertain kid I'd known in school that it grabbed me by the throat. "Do _you_ think we should, Jane?"

"I can't really say," I admitted. "I can say that I've been run all over town and talked to the greatest hits of sometime Felt members today, and if Caliborn doesn't know we're talking to Meenah now, I'm certain he will by morning. I'm not saying I wouldn't be able to track Roxy down again. I'm not saying I _would_ , either. I'd be back at square one on the case. It's up to you."

"If you've got a good chance at finding Roxy now, you should take it," Callie said, her voice quavering a little.

"You're sure, kid?" 

"Of course." She didn't sound sure, but it clearly wasn't for lack of trying. "Go find Roxy, Jane. I'll... I'll see about things."

"Ok," I said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. It was true, if we turned down Meenah's help now, I wasn't sure we'd be able to find Roxy again - not before the mix of childish impatience and paranoia that Lord English was notorious for would take tragic effect. It still felt a bit like giving up, somehow, and I suspected that it would feel more than "a bit" like giving up to Terezi.

But hey, if Terezi's delicate sensitivities were offended by what had to be done to bring Roxy home safe, she could go cry about it to someone else.

"Thank you," Calliope said.

"It's what I do," I replied. "I'll be back in touch when I have more news."

There was a faint click on the other end of the line, and I returned the receiver to its cradle and headed back inside.

Terezi was still sitting at then bar where I'd left her; Cosmina was nowhere to be seen. I cleared my throat as I approached, and Terezi turned to me with a decidedly nonplussed look on her face.

"I've got a rendezvous planned with Meenah if you're going to insist on going through with this," she said. "Are you?"

"Miss English says yes," I replied with a shrug. 

"I don't like this," Terezi admitted. "I trust Meenah about as far as I can throw her, and I'm not known for my incredible upper-body strength."

"She doesn't seem to care for our client," I agreed. "But I think she cares for the other English even less. She won't help Caliborn to spite Calliope."

She nodded, almost infinitesimally. "Meenah's trouble, but that's working for us, here. She's too much trouble to be in anyone's pocket."

"Unlike her sister?"

"I guess." Terezi didn't sound sure. "I only know Meenah a little, and that's because she and Vriska run together sometimes. Condy, I only know by reputation."

I sighed. "So where are we meeting her?"

"Office building down on Veil Avenue. Quiet neighborhood. She's got some rooms rented up there, I think."

"Let's go, then," I said.

"Let's."


	5. Chapter 5

_Terezi Pyrope_  
 _11:59 PM_  
Meeting Meenah Peixes on a deserted street at midnight had not been on my list of things to do when I woke up that morning.

Honestly, as we took a taxi over there - instructing the cabbie to let us out a block away and around a corner, just in case - I was seriously pondering whether I would be able to hear her pull the knife I _knew_ she kept up her sleeve in time to use Jane as a human shield. Well, half-seriously.

Maybe it was more of a flight of fancy. A girl's allowed the occasional morbid fantasy when a slight inconsistency in her work day spins totally out of control and leaves her at the mercy of the revolutionary youngest daughter of one of the cities greatest fallen families.

I didn't like being party to Meenah driving Calliope English out of town, but I couldn't say I was entirely unhappy to see English go. She might have been the less objectionable English, but boy did she have a way of complicating everything.

 _Jane Crocker_  
 _12:02 AM_  
I'd thought we'd be meeting Meenah in an office. Maybe a lobby. But when we reached the address she'd given us, she was sitting perched on the hood of a low, dark car parked out front, a dark cloche pulled low over her ears and a cigarette cupped in one hand. It had begun to rain, that weak atmospheric drizzle that's the cloud cover's way of saying "and fuck you, too," to everyone in town.

She looked up as we approached. "You made it," she said. I couldn't decide whether she sounded faintly surprised, or faintly impressed. Maybe faintly both.

"Against my better judgement," Terezi groused, but she didn't object to Meenah ushering us into the car.

If I never accept a ride from Cosmina Peixes again, it will be far too soon. The less said about her driving skills, the happier I will be.

She finally pulled into a residential neighborhood at the northern end of town, the kind of place that had been real nice to live for approximately as long as it took certain other people to figure out it was a real nice place to live, and subsequently had kind of gone to shit. Still respectable enough in appearance, but hardly respectable in anything else. She pulled up an alley, parking behind a house that was just a little too big for the lot it was built on.

"C'mon, then," she prompted. As she gestured for us to follow, I thought I caught a glimpse of reflected light off of something in her coat sleeve. I slid my hand into the pocket of my own jacket, feeling the smooth curve of a set of brass knuckles tucked away in the bottom.

Ok, so it's not exactly legal. Like anything else I was doing that night was.

We followed her up to a back door. I don't know if it was locked, but it wasn't by the time I went through it. Terezi followed, closing it silently behind us.

"I don't know exactly where they'd stash your friend," Meenah hissed, as we ascended a staircase far too narrow and cold to be used by anyone but household staff, "but if it was _me_ it'd be the back parlor. The windows are all barred back the back of the house, and no chance of anyone seeing anything from the street. Plus it's nice enough Condy can tell herself it ain't like she's imprisoning anyone."

"Except for the whole holding her against her will thing," Terezi pointed out.

"Well yes, but we're talking about my sister's logic, here," Meena said.

"Thank you for the information," I muttered. "Now _shut up,_ both of you."

At the top of the stairs, Terezi paused. "I'll keep watch here," she said.

" _Watch_?" Meenah tittered.

I elbowed the little troublemaker. "Not like I can see my hand in front of my face, in here," I pointed out. "She'll hear things coming long before you'd spot them, unless you keep yammering on like that."

"Who's yammering?" Meenah asked.

" _Both_ of you are," Terezi snapped. "Get going. Find Lalonde, if she's here to find."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, and followed Meenah's lead.

It was obvious enough when we reached the right room. For one thing, it was shut up tight from the outside - there was no lock on the door, but chair jammed under the knob and weighted down with an obnoxiously tasteful bit of statuary did about the same trick. With Meenah's help, I managed to get that shifted, and pulled the door open.

For another thing, the fact that all the furniture in the room that could be moved by a reasonably athletic young woman had been piled in a sort of fort in the middle of the room.

And behind the fort crouched Roxy, a slim revolver held steadily aimed at the door. To this day, I don't know how she got that gun in there with her, and I'm firmly of the opinion that I don't want to know. She looked from me to Meenah for a long moment.

"The fuck is this?"

Ah, yeah, good old Roxy. As eloquent as ever.

"I think the usual term is a 'rescue,' but I could be mistaken," I replied. "You ok, Rox? Calliope's worried sick."

She slowly stood and lowered her weapon, although she kept her eye on Meenah as she spoke to me. "Well, I got myself kidnapped and dragged halfway across town, was offered some _seriously_ inferior martinis, and had to put up with Condy Peixes for a good chunk of the afternoon," she said. "Otherwise, I think I'm good. Speaking of Peixes, why's she here?"

"What, I can't get on the heroing once in a while?" Meenah asked with a pout.

"Miss Peixes is how we got here in the first place," I informed Roxy.

"Nah, pretty sure that was the other one, in my case," Roxy said.

"'We' here referring to myself and Terezi Pyrope of the NMPD, who is -"

"Ladies, we've got trouble!" came a shout from the hallway.

"- standing watch, or was until just now," I sighed, burying my face in one hand.

 

 _Terezi Pyrope_  
 _12:36 AM_  
The thing about standing sentry duty is that when your compatriots have gone off somewhere that's intentionally hard to get out of, you calling an alarm doesn't do a whole lot of good.

Calling an alarm also doesn't do a whole lot of good when the people you are trying to warn are really, really skilled at standing around arguing, either, it turns out, which is why the three of them were still standing there like idiots when I joined them at gunpoint a moment later.

At the other end of the pistol was Constance Peixes - like Meenah, but taller, older, shriller, and less reasonable. And it's a sad day when someone can be accurately described as less reasonable than Meenah Peixes. Honestly, I'm not sure what Lord English sees in Condy, but then I guess you could say I don't see what most people see in most other people, on account of the seeing thing.

"Nice of you to join us, Condy," Meenah said, as if she had not just been caught breaking into the house of the current moll of the most notorious gangster in New Midnight City, who also happened to be her sister and, perhaps not so coincidentally, completely off her fucking rocker.

"Pity I wasn't invited," Condy replied. The pressure of her gun muzzle let up on my back, although just enough that she wasn't urging me forward anymore.

"Well, technically, none of us were _invited_ ," drawled a new voice - Roxy Lalonde, I had to assume. Well, that was one problem solved.

"You can shut your gob, girlie," Condy snapped.

"Just sayin', an invitation usually involves a card, or maybe a phone call," Roxy continued. "Not abduction."

So Meenah was a little off to my left, Roxy more or less straight ahead and a little more distant. That only left one to locate, and if she wasn't going to speak up on her own...

"Jane and I _did_ kind of invite ourselves," I chuckled. "Didn't we, Jane?"

"I don't know, it might be more accurate to say Meenah invited us," Jane said.

Bingo. There she was - between Roxy and Meenah. I still wasn't sure of the layout of the room, but at least I knew where everyone was. I could work with this. Probably.

"Too bad it's too late to decline the invitation, huh?" Condy asked archly.

"Aw, but why would we want to do that, sis?" Meenah objected. "I haven't seen you in _forever_. Is mom's murderer treating you good?"

"You little-" Condy began. The gun lost contact with my back, and I dropped, sweeping my leg behind me and grabbing at her to shove her past me as she fell.

I hoped to god that no one else had moved too much. A gun went off - by the proximity of the sound, Condy's, although in the moment I couldn't tell for sure - and Jane yelled. There was the sound of someone falling into what sounded like a lot of already jumbled-together furniture.

Then someone hauled me to my feet as she ran past, and I was preoccupied with trying to stay on said feet while running down a flight of unfamiliar stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

_Jane Crocker_  
 _12:50 AM_  
Word to the wise: never, ever, ever get shot. Especially if there is a chance you will have to flee for your life shortly afterward.

Just don't do it.

I'm not kidding, here.

I wish I could recount the thrilling tale of our escape from Constance Peixes's house, but I was a little distracted by the fact that as far as I was concerned, my right arm might as well have been on fire. So much for us rescuing Roxy - I'm pretty sure that she was the one who hauled both Terezi and me out of there, when the chips were down. I suppose we get some points for unlocking the doors on the way in.

Alright, I'm sulking. I'm just saying it wasn't entirely pleasant trying to keep pressure on my arm while Roxy hotwired Meenah's car and she and Terezi argued over whether being totally blind disqualified Terezi from driving.

"Te-Pyre, I am super thankful for the rescue, but there is no way I am letting you behind the wheel," Roxy griped, doing something arcane with something poking out from under the steering wheel. "Ain't happening."

"I'm completely good to drive," Terezi objected. "My instinctive rapport with the creatures of the night gives me superior reflexes. And it's not like anyone else is on the road."

"That's bullshit."

"Also I got here more recently than you, my centrifugal muscle memory of the route is fresher than yours."

"More bullshit!"

I groaned. "Terezi, help me stop this bleeding and let Roxy handle the car, will you?"

"But -"

"I wouldn't get between her and a machine even if I didn't have an awful hole in my arm," I pointed out, in what I hoped was a patent and reasonable fashion. It would have been more patient and reasonable if I did not have a bullet hole in my arm.

Terezi sighed, heavily, and wrestled out of her coat to offer the heavy wool garment to me to help staunch the bleeding.

It did help, a bit. I still felt like someone had jammed a red-hot poker through my arm, but at least I wasn't dripping on my surroundings anymore. With the coat wrapped tightly around my arm and tied up in an impromptu sling, Terezi all but punted me into the back seat of the car, then climbed into the passenger's seat while the engine came to life and Roxy crowed.

"What about Meenah?" I demanded.

"She'll be fine," Terezi said, more than a little dismissively. "And anyway, she's probably in the middle of a tearful reunion right now. Or a gunfight. I'm not entirely sure what the difference would be, with those two."

Twenty minutes, three wrong turns, and a half-dozen arguments later, we stumbled into my office - one of the arguments had been, assuming that we might have picked up a tail that none of us were in any state to spot, whose place were we going to lead said hypothetical tail to? The office seemed like the best bet - Helium Boulevard may not run though the most respectable part of town, but it was a safer neighborhood than where I lived, and nearer than Roxy or Terezi's place. And after Terezi's bosses had been unwilling to investigate, we weren't sure we wanted to go through official channels just yet.

I flipped on the light, blinking in the sudden, if not particularly bright, glare of the bare bulb mounted under the fan, and found a familiar, waifish figure sleeping with her head on my desk. I'm sure I should have been a little more concerned about how Calliope had gotten in there in my absence, but I was tired, and a little euphoric with relief or maybe it was just physical shock setting in - had I mentioned I'd gotten _shot_ in the fucking _arm_? - so I just cleared my throat and said loudly, "Hey, Calliope, look what I found."

She woke with a start, blinked blearily at us a few times, and then all but vaulted over the desk to collide bodily with Roxy. I took advantage of their reunion to claim my chair, where Callie had been sleeping a moment before. Terezi chuckled, coming over to perch on the edge of my desk.

"How's the arm?"

I scowled. "Bit more than a scratch, but I'm pretty sure it's a through-and-through. It wasn't spurting, I don't think it hit bone, and I can move my fingers, although I really don't want to. I'll live."

"I can recommend a guy who does good patch-jobs, if you don't want to gamble with the horse docs," she said, referring to the staff of Maplehoof Memorial Hospital.

I instantly regretted shrugging - it hurt, and it's not like the gesture meant a lot to the blind broad, anyway. "Even they shouldn't be able to screw this up _too_ badly. I want to finish this up, first," I replied, and then raised my voice to get the attention of the pair who had, at least, cut it out with the kissing, although they were still enthusiastically clinging to each other. "So what's the plan, ladies?"

Calliope looked over, arms still looped around Roxy's waist, and she looked a bit like she'd forgotten Terezi and I were there. "There's a train going out to Hellmurder at three this morning," she said.

Terezi laughed. "You sure didn't waste time!"

"You've got family out that way, right?" Roxy asked. Callie nodded.

"Aunt Jade's not any happier with Caliborn than I am," she explained. "We can stay with her until we figure out what we're going to do next."

"Good," I said, and glanced at my watch. It's amazing how an experience like that night can make you thankful for the small things, like the fact that the arm I didn't get shot in is the one that I had to move to see what time it was. "You've got a bit more than an hour and a half before the train goes, do you have tickets already?"

" _Yes_ , Jane," Calliope sighed. "Tickets, a little light baggage, my Aunt is expecting us, I've got it all organized."

"I'll make sure they get off safe," Terezi said, "if you'd rather collapse. Or maybe actually see a doctor about that arm."

"Yeah. Sure," I agreed. I'm not sure exactly which parts I was agreeing to. I was starting to feel just a little swimmy in the general head region.

Calliope extricated herself from Roxy, and came over to wrap her arms around my shoulders, instead, and press a kiss to my temple. "Thank you," she said, very seriously. "Thank you both."

I smiled, as best I could, and squeezed her arm with my uninjured hand; Terezi cackled and said, "Doing our jobs, miss."

"You've been waiting to say that all night, haven't you," I accused.

"I can neither confirm not deny that," Terezi said airily. "Let's go, ladies."

 

 _Terezi Pyrope_  
 _Three days later, 6:28 PM_  
"...and there remain no leads on the invasion of the mansion of prominent public figure Constance Peixes," said the radio news announcer, around the occasional crackle of static. I reached over and switched the damn thing off as Jane sighed.

"No one involved wants to bring the whole embarrassing thing to light, more likely," she said, stretching. I could hear her back pop, and the slight hiss of pained breath as the stretch jostled her injured arm in its pristine hospital-issue sling. "She's supposed to be proud, I doubt she wants the world to know her little sister broke into the family home on a mission of mercy."

I nodded. "There wouldn't even be this much of a story, if one of the neighbors hadn't heard gunshots."

"So really, it's your fault," Jane snickered. "If you hadn't made her shoot me..."

"You're awfully chipper for a recent victim of mob violence," I retorted, with a grin.

"Huh. I am, aren't I? Well, that's a feather in my cap."

I sighed. "You haven't got a cap, Crocker."

"How'd you know that?" she asked, suspiciously, and I laughed.

"Didn't, until just now."

"You're awful," she informed me. "I'll get a cap, then. And put feathers in it."

I raked a hand through my hair, and laughed again. "You know, Crocker, I think this might be..."

She cut me off, with a snort that might have been suppressed laughter. "If you say 'the beginning of a beautiful friendship,' I'll make sure it's you who gets shot next time."

I didn't say it. Occasionally it's best not to press your luck.


End file.
